4400: The Face of God
by Dan the Zombie
Summary: After Danny Farrell's ability rocks Seattle, Jordan Collier has annexed the city, renaming it Promise City. Tom has been confronted with the option to take promicin. Will he take it? Continues after Season 4.
1. Chapter 1

**The 4400:** The Face of God

Written By Dan Pickens

**Disclaimer:** All characters belong to Scott Peters and the USA Network.

**Chapter One**

Tom looked down at the glowing green hypodermic needle in his hand and wiped the sweat off of his brow. He was breathing heavily, but he took in a breath and wiped his arm with a tiny alcohol pad. The incandescent light on his bedside table seemed to flicker, but he assumed it was his imagination as he plunged the needle into his arm. There was a brief sting, and then he pushed down on the plunger.

It was as though he could feel the promicin flowing through his body. At first it invigorated him, elated him. Then he felt suddenly nauseous. He keeled over, coughing, feeling his body rebel against the foreign chemicals he had inserted into his veins.

A break in his coughing allowed him a brief glance at his palms – they were covered in blood from his coughs. Warm thick liquid began to pour from his nose, and then he could feel it from his eyes, which were beginning to burn as though on fire. He screamed as the promicin rocked his system.

Then he sat up. His forehead glistened in the moonlight, and he looked down at his bedside table, where the light was off and the hypodermic needle lay sterile beside his alarm clock. He wiped a thick layer of sweat from his forehead and laid back, thinking about what he had just seen. His gaze fell on the needle, and he turned away from it and tried to get back to sleep.

* * *

Communication with the former city of Seattle was nonexistent. Jordan Collier had made his statement, to the promicin-positive populous of Seattle and to the world, that his movement had taken control of the entire metropolis. It was the least that Governor Quail could have done to declare a state of emergency for his state, and surrounded the city with National Guard.

Quail looked down at the photograph that lay on his desk, topping piles of sensitive documents that told of the death tolls and promicin-positive cases from the captured city. The photo was one depicting a sign at the outskirts of Seattle, the sign that once welcomed visitors to the city. It now welcomed visitors to Promise City. More like Promicity, Quail thought.

Collier had announced an open invitation to any promicin-positive inhabitant of the United States of America to come live in Promise City, though the National Guard blockade had prevented the number of citizens growing at all. The rumors that Collier had intention of declaring a separate nation, and that he was organizing to become a recognized government by China, floated through his mind without course.

He hit the button on his intercom, but hesitated. Finally, he said, "Ms. Dewey, I need to find a way into Promise City. Could you bring me the head of National Defense?"

"I'll do what I can, sir," Ms. Dewey replied over the intercom.

Quail began to pace as he brooded the situation. His phone rang shortly, and he picked it up without thinking.

"Governor Robert Quail," he said into the receiver, his voice far coarser than he'd intended. "How can I help you?"

"Governor Quail," a calm, composed voice spoke slowly into his ear. "I wish to assure you that Promise City means you no harm."

"Who is this?" Quail asked.

"This is Jordan Collier," the voice said finally. "I wish to let you know that you are welcome to visit us as soon as you are promicin-positive. You are part of something much larger, Governor Quail, and I think you know deep down that we mean no one any harm."

Quail put his hand over the receiver, listening intently to what Collier was saying, and wrote down every word of it on the back of the photograph. "Collier, what you've done is insane. You have led a severely aggressive terrorist movement against the United States of America. If you let down your defenses and come easily, nobody will have to get hurt."

"I'm sorry," Collier said slowly. "Anyways, there is a very interesting young man who is on his way to speak to you right now. His name is Kyle Baldwin, and he should be arriving at your door in just a few moments. I'm afraid this phone call is over."

Quail shouted to wait, but the telltale beep off the line being closed let him know that Collier was done talking. He punched some numbers into the phone and turned it on speaker. As soon as the ringing stopped, he said curtly, "This is Governor Quail; I need the number that just called here traced. That location is where Jordan Collier is hiding in Promise- I mean, Seattle."

Quail hung up. The phone buzzed and he pressed a button on it.

"Sir, a Kyle Baldwin is here to see you," Ms. Dewey said.

"Arrest him," Quail responded without hesitation. "Arrest him immediately."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, sir," Ms. Dewey said.

"Why the hell not?" Quail asked.

"Well, he's not alone. There are at least four other…" Dewey stopped as she tried to think of an acceptable turn of phrase, "…positives with him."

Quail stood stunned, unable to believe that his entire building had been overrun by a small group of promicin-positive civilians. No, he thought, no longer civilians, but terrorists.

The doors to his office opened and through them stepped a young man with blonde hair wearing a black army jacket. In his hands was a book, and behind him, a group of other individuals looked warily around. The young man turned to his colleagues.

"Thank you, Jennifer," he said, and one of them nodded.

"What have you done to my staff?" asked Quail, sitting slowly in the large comfortable chair behind his desk.

The young man turned to face Quail, and smiled congenially. "They're all fine. Jennifer's ability allows her to sort of stop time for a short while. Your staff is quite aware that time is passing, but they are unable to participate in it. My name is Kyle Baldwin."

"I know, I recognized you from television," Quail said stiffly. "I thought you didn't force promicin on anyone."

"I am not here to force you to do anything," Kyle stated simply. "Did you know that something like 90 years ago, your grandfather, just a young man at the time, was a member of a little-known following that predicted the events that are currently going on today?"

"My grandfather?" Quail said. He chuckled. "Did Collier also tell you that my grandfather was a drunk? He died in a bottle, you know."

"Collier didn't tell me anything," Kyle said. He moved closer to the desk, but made no move to sit down. "And no, I didn't know that he was a drunk."

"What you're doing is highly illegal," was all Quail said, and he crossed his arms across his chest. "You'll be arrested as soon as you leave the premises."

"The reason I came here is because your name is on a list," Kyle continued without being phased at all. "A 90-year-old list that says that if you take promicin, you won't die."

Quail laughed out loud this time. "And I'm supposed to take your word for it? Or is my name in that book you're holding? How am I to know that Jordon Collier didn't write that book?"

"Your name is in this book," Kyle assured Quail. "But, like I said, I am not here to force you to do anything. I am here to deliver that message, and to give you a gift."

Kyle reached into his pocket and pulled out a hypodermic needle. Inside it glowed the green liquid identifiable only as promicin, the chemical that unlocks secret abilities in human beings.

"Get that out of my sight," Quail said. "I'm not taking your stupid shot."

Kyle calmly placed the needle on top of the photograph. He looked levelly at Quail, his smile gone. Now he split open the book and pointed to a page covered in strange glyphs. Quail felt a strange twinge in his mind, and he leaned forward curiously.

"This page roughly translates into a list of the people who will help bring heaven on earth," Kyle stated, pointing at the page. Quail reached out, but Kyle retracted the book.

"I'm sorry," Quail said, leaning back, a nonplused expression on his face. "The book seems very familiar."

"You know," said Kyle, "I was told that all of the members of the original following died in a fire."

"Maybe they did," said Quail, whose mind was somewhere else.

"It was nice talking to you, Governor Quail," Kyle said, stepping backwards. "Jordan and I look forward to seeing you in Promise City very soon."

Kyle turned and walked away.

"I am not like you, Kyle," Quail said after them. "I do not believe that Jordan Collier can bring us heaven on earth."

"I am not here to debate that," Kyle replied without turning around. He gathered his friends and left.

* * *

Diana closed the door to Maia's room and wrung her hands. It had been two days since Collier had annexed Seattle, and she and her partner Tom were the only promicin-negative citizens living in the Seattle area. She walked into the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. She took a pair of Tylenol and walked back into the living room.

When Jordan Collier's men had showed up yesterday to catalogue her ability, she informed them that she was negative and couldn't get an ability. She hadn't gone into work yesterday, but Meghan had called and said that it wasn't a problem. There was no way to communicate with DC, but she had been compiling reports to file as much as possible. Tom hadn't showed up either, which Diana wasn't entirely surprised about.

After the death of his sister and nephew, she suspected that Tom wouldn't be back for a while. The last she saw him, he was going home with his son, and she dearly hoped that they would be able to patch things up once and for all.

She ran a hand through her red hair and grabbed the cordless phone from the end table by her couch. She sat for a little while before she dialed Tom's number. Once dialed, she waited a moment before she hit the call button.

The phone rang and rang, and then the answering machine picked up. She left a brief message, and then hung up, staring blankly out the window. Yesterday there were columns of smoke rising from the skyline, but today the city was quiet. There had been some unrest between Collier's people and those who didn't want their new powers, but the assimilation had gone as smoothly as possible, as far as Diana was concerned.

Maia had said very little after Diana had denied her the chance to go out into Promise City to help clean it up. Diana didn't feel it was safe, despite her daughter's assurances that the promicin-positive citizens of Promise City had everything under control. She had known too many 4400 with abilities that were used for evil rather than good – even a serial killer who could use others to do his killing for him. She wondered, with a whole half of a city converted, how many of those were criminals, rapists, murderers?

The one time that she had looked out the front door into the hallway of her apartment building, all she saw were volunteers who were helping to remove the dead bodies of her neighbors whose bodies could not take promicin. As horrible as some of the things Maia had seen were, she didn't want Maia immersed in a city half full of corpses.

A knock woke her from her thoughts, and it took a second knock to get her up from the couch and over to the door. She opened it and saw Marco, the cute guy from the Theory Room at NTAC. He wasn't wearing his customary horn-rimmed classes, and his jet-black hair was done in a style that highlighted his eyes – his blue eyes.

"Marco," she started.

"I know, the glasses, right?" Marco said as he invited himself in. "Someone helped me out on the way over here. I mean, I had a picture of your building, so it didn't take me long to get in here, but he was in the stairwell on the way up, so I…"

"Marco, what are you doing here?" Diana asked. "It's after eleven."

"Oh," Marco said, embarrassed. "I came by to see how you were doing. I hadn't heard from you since Collier…"

"Well, no, but…" Diana was lost for words. Finally her mind connected a loose end and she asked, "You had a picture of here? What has that got to do with anything?"

"You don't know yet!" Marco exclaimed, suddenly excited. "Where do you wanna go? Anywhere?"

"I don't know, visiting Ben in Morocco would be nice," Diana admitted, finally closing her front door.

"Do you have a picture?" Marco asked.

"Of Ben or of Morocco?" Diana asked.

"Both, or just Morocco," Marco replied. "It's my ability. When I see a place, like in a picture, I can instantly go there – like teleport there."

"That's very…" Diana started.

"Cool, huh?" Marco said. He had begun flipping through a photo album that was stuck on a shelf with several other volumes by the kitchen. After flipping through several pages, he stopped and looked up at Diana.

Diana had a perplexed look on her face. She wasn't sure whether she was happy to see Marco or not. She was happy that he was okay, but she wasn't sure if she wanted to see anyone at all right now.

"Look, Di, if this is a bad time I can come back later," Marco said.

"No, no, this isn't a bad time," Diana lied. "Sit down; I'll get you something to eat."

It was the first proactive movement that Diana had taken since Marco walked in the door. She walked across the apartment and opened up the refrigerator. "What do you want, I've got leftover meatloaf?"

"Hah," Marco chuckled dryly. "I think I'll pass on the Skouris meatloaf. I'm not hungry anyways. Are you sure you're alright?"

Diana closed the refrigerator door and looked at Marco. For the first time, she smiled. "Yeah, I'm fine, Marco. Have you heard anything from Tom, by any chance?"

"I haven't," admitted Marco. "NTAC is pretty shut down as long as there is no communication to the outside world. Nobody knows exactly why communication is down, but we think that it's a promicin ability. Jordan obviously doesn't want any information going in or out of Promise City for a little while."

"That's a strange move for him," Diana said. "Usually he wants the world to sit front row while he makes his miracles."

"That's true," Marco agreed. "Unless his plans are somewhat darker now than they have been in the past. It's quite possible that he's planning something far worse than anyone ever previously thought. He certainly has a lot more followers now than ever before. Has Maia had any visions lately? Maybe they can give us a clue as to why –"

"Maia hasn't said anything," Diana replied. She moved over to the kitchen table and sat down. "She's becoming more distant and rebellious."

"Well, as she grows up that's bound to happen," Marco said.

"I know, I just didn't think it would happen so soon," Diana said.

"No one ever does, or so they tell me," Marco said. "She probably just needs some space."

"Maybe, but I don't want to send her out into the world to become another of Jordan Collier's assets," Diana replied. "Pardon me, but I won't let my daughter become a tool for his dictatorship."

Marco put his hand on Diana's. "Everything is going to be alright in Promise City. You should stop worrying."

* * *

Tom walked into NTAC Medical looking around nervously. He wondered if anyone could sense that he was up to something, or see the form of the hypodermic needle in his pocket. Checking to make sure he wasn't followed, he opened the door to an empty examination room and slipped inside.

Flipping on the light switch, he looked in on the white room. Blue fluorescent light flickered above him, and he took an uncomfortable seat on the gurney. He slid backwards to get more comfortable, tearing the butcher paper beneath him. He pulled the needle out of his pocket.

Opening up a drawer, he searched for an alcohol pad and found one. He split it open and rubbed his arm. Quickly, he removed the cap from the needle and put it to the inside of his left arm. He hesitated.

His cell phone rang. Relieved, he put down the needle and answered the phone.

"Tom Baldwin," he said.

"Dad?" it was Kyle's voice on the other side. "Dad, I wanted to let you know where you can find me now, after you've taken the shot. Jordan says that if you don't take it, your invitation will wear out quickly, but I've assured him you're going to take it. Have you…?"

"Not yet, Kyle," Tom said, a little overwhelmed to hear his son talking so fast.

"I'm going to be staying at the 4400 Center with Shawn," Kyle said. "You can find me there tomorrow."

"Kyle –" Tom stammered.

"What, Dad?"

"You're safe, right?"

"Of course," Kyle replied. "Look, I've got to go. There's a lot of work to do. I'll see you soon, Dad."

"I love you, Kyle," Tom said.

"Love you, too, Dad," Kyle replied, and hung up. Tom put his cell phone beside him and closed his eyes as tears began to well in them.

He wiped them out of his eyes and picked up the needle. Without another thought, he plunged it into his arm and pushed down the plunger.

When the needle was empty, he removed it from his arm and put pressure on the point of penetration. He placed the needle on the bed beside him, and suddenly the world began to spin.

Tom stood in a dark room, full of strangers with indistinguishable faces. He stood in a clearing amongst the strangers, and one woman, a tall woman with blonde hair and red lips stepped forward from the crowd and bowed at the waist slightly.

"Tom Baldwin," she said, smiling. "Welcome back."

"What's going on?" Tom said. He finally recognized the room from his previous visits to the future, but it had never been filled with people before. "Why am I back here? Was I dying?"

The woman smiled even broader. "No, Tom. The time has come for you to learn a little more about your purpose, about Jordan Collier, and the world that you are helping to shape."

Tom looked from stranger to stranger in the crowd but could distinguish no faces.

"Who are all these people?" Tom asked, moving slightly closer to the crowd.

"These are players in the story I am about to tell," The woman explained, "pay close attention, Tom."

A young woman stepped out from the midst of the crowd, a woman with a familiar face and long blonde hair. She had a very pale complexion, and bright blue eyes. Tom stared, agape. "Maia Skouris?"

"Hello, Tom," Maia replied.

"This isn't the real Maia Skouris," the tall woman said. "The real Maia Skouris has been dead for a very long time. Maia is instrumental in the movement, and she is someone you must protect at all costs."

"Tom, I had a vision that I never got to tell you when I was alive," Maia said. "In the vision, eight men were standing in the Oval Office, looking at the President. One of the eight men was you; you killed the President of the United States, Tom.

The tall woman looked at Maia, who nodded, and stepped back into the crowd. Next, a tall black man stepped forward from behind Tom. Tom instantly recognized him as Richard Tyler, one of the original 4400.

"Hey Tom," Richard said. He nodded quietly.

"Richard Tyler?" Tom was confused. He looked from the tall woman back to Richard.

"Your nephew is on to something, Tom," said Richard. "He has always stood for good, and Jordan Collier is on the wrong path to the right goal."

"I don't understand," Tom said. "This is an awful lot to take in."

"You will understand in time," the woman assured him.

Richard stepped back into the crowd, and this time a third person stepped out from the crowd, an older man, overweight with white hair. "Tom," he greeted Tom nominally.

Tom recognized this man from somewhere, but he couldn't remember where off the top of his head.

"Former Governor Robert Quail," the woman introduced the elderly man to Tom without having to see the look of confusion on his face.

"Tom, the research that is being done at the 4400 Center is vital to the survival of mankind," Quail said. "Enough people have died, and it's up to you and a few other individuals, like myself, to help prevent more from dying unnecessarily."

"But we've tried telling that to Collier," said Tom. "He won't listen."

"True," agreed Quail. "But he will listen to you when you tell him this. Trust us. Collier needs guidance. That is why he seeks advice from your son, Kyle."

"Even if he does listen, what am I supposed to do?" Tom asked.

Quail stepped into the crowd and a young woman with straight black hair stepped out of the crowd, a 4400 by the name of Tess Doerner. Tom knew that she was often seen with Kevin Burkhoff, and was personally responsible for freeing Burkhoff from a long sickness that he once possessed.

"Kevin Burkhoff is working on a test to tell who will survive the promicin shot and who won't," said Tess. "You need to make sure that he finishes his research and moves onto developing a drug that will allow everyone to become promicin-positive. You must keep Jordan Collier from expanding Promise City."

"So let me get this straight," Tom said as Tess meshed back into the crowd. "You want me to kill the president, keep Jordan Collier from killing anyone else, and ensure that Kevin Burkhoff develops a miracle cure?"

The tall woman smiled. "In so many words, Tom, yes."

From far away, a familiar voice called to him. "Tom? Tom?!"

"That's Meghan!" Tom exclaimed. "Meghan!"

Tom looked down at the woman, who was now his beautiful blonde-haired boss and lover, Meghan Doyle. She shouted his name again, "Tom!"

Tom awoke looking into Meghan's eyes. A small team of NTAC Medical staff was gathered in the small room, looking over Meghan's shoulders at Tom. The empty needle lay on the floor, and a concerned look was boring into Tom from Meghan's beautiful blue eyes.

"Tom?" Meghan askedquietly.

"Meghan," Tom said, slightly surprised.

"Are you alright?" she asked him.

"I just had a vision," he said, sitting up. "There's a lot of work to be done."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Tom picked up his cell phone from the gurney. Meghan still had a shocked look on her face.

"Are you alright, Tom?" she asked. "Let the guys do a quick check to make sure you're alright. I insist."

Tom looked at Meghan and then past her at the concerned-looking NTAC Medical team, or rather, what was left of them. He got up and put his hand on Meghan's arm.

"I'm fine, Meghan," he said. "First we have to find Jordan Collier."

"No kidding," said Meghan. "That's top priority on our list, we need him to lift the communications blackout on Seattle."

"That's great, but it's more important than that," Tom said, making an attempt to move past Meghan. "Jordan might be about to do something he would regret. We need to get to him first."

"Where do you intend to start looking?" asked Meghan. "We've been searching everywhere."

"I'm going to see my son at the 4400 Center," Tom replied and left.

* * *

Shawn Farrell cracked open his blinds and sunlight crept into his office. He began to clear the campaign flyers and posters into his trash can, then set them by the door and took a seat on the couch on his wall. The past week had been more than he ever expected he'd have to handle. There was no point in announcing his pulling out of the race for Seattle city council since, as far as Jordan Collier and the promicin-positive citizens of Seattle were concerned, Seattle no longer existed.

Promise City. It grew from just a small part in the south of Seattle to the entire city. Jordan Collier's dangerous movement, the movement that threatened half of the population of the world. Shawn wasn't sure which way he wanted to go now. He could still try to help those people in Promise City who didn't have abilities cope with the new society, but Jordan had cut off communications entirely. It would be difficult to get a message out to so few people without at least a television or phone.

The door to his office opened, and Shawn's cousin, Kyle walked in.

"Hey, Shawn," said Kyle. "How are you doing?"

"I don't know, honestly," replied Shawn, but he got up and hugged Kyle.

"To be perfectly honest, I'm surprised you're here," said Kyle. "I don't think I'd be here, were I in your situation. But I was told you'd be here."

"Yeah," Shawn said, sitting back down on the couch. Kyle sat down next to him. "I have nowhere else to go. Even Kevin Burkhoff is out looking around Promise City. He's in shock, but he and Tess are out there, helping everyone adjust."

"You have no obligation to do the same," Kyle said. "I know you must feel like there's no other choice."

"No kidding," Shawn said. Everyone in the 4400 Center had gone, practically. The need for a 'safe zone' for certain 4400s vanished overnight when Jordan Collier had come to power. Most of his staff was gone. "I just feel so useless now. I still don't believe that Jordan is doing the right thing."

"I don't see how you can believe that," Kyle stated. "After all that's happened, don't you see that what we're doing is for the better?"

"Kyle," Shawn said, moving away from Kyle suddenly. "The man is threatening to hurt people. That is not the right path for any movement! There might be another answer out there, you have to give it more time."

"Actually," Kyle said. "You may be right. My ability, it's been telling me to go to you. You're important to the movement. So is Kevin Burkhoff's work. You need to do what you do best."

"Heal people?" Shawn asked. "I can't even spread the message that anyone who needs healing can come to me. Jordan's blackout –"

"Jordan hasn't blacked anyone out," Kyle interjected. "We don't know who is behind the communications blackout, but Jordan thinks that it's a promicin-positive individual in Promise City. That's why my dad is coming later."

"What about NTAC?" Shawn asked. "What position are they taking on the blackout?""I have no idea," Kyle said. "We'll have to ask. I wanted to let you know before my dad gets here that I'm going to be leaving Promise City soon to retrieve Richard Tyler. My ability told me where he is, and that he's going to be needed before long."

"How are you going to get out of Promise City?" Shawn asked.

"I already have, once," Kyle answered. "I just took Jennifer Swan and left. I went to go talk to the Governor."

"What's going on outside the city?" Shawn sat up straight.

"They're going through the motions of declaring war on Promise City," Kyle said. "Which is why we need to find out who is causing the blackout soon before something bad happens. I'm set to tell Jordan tonight, and then I'm leaving tomorrow morning."

"Kyle, stay longer," Shawn said. "Help me find a way to convince Jordan that he needs to back down. We can do it together, he'll listen to you, and you know I can help."

"That's just not in the plans, Shawn," Kyle replied, and put his hand on Shawn's shoulder.

"So, what?" Shawn threw Kyle's hand off of his shoulder. "You'd just leave all these people here to die because your ability tells you to find Richard Tyler?"

Kyle sighed. He got up and turned away. When he turned back, Shawn noticed that he didn't look as sure as he had since he'd gotten an ability. He looked scared, like he didn't know what was going to happen.

Just then, the door opened again and Tom walked in. He looked from Kyle to Shawn, and asked, "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah," Shawn lied. "We were just talking about the blackout."

"Interesting," Tom said and entered the room fully. "That's, uh, one of the topics I was interested in talking about, though I didn't want to jump into it. As long as we're here, though, what can be done about lifting the blackout?"

"That's a good question," replied Kyle. "I'm sure you think that Jordan is behind the blackout as well?"

"I have no good reason to believe otherwise," said Tom. "Now that he's taken over a city, he might be planning all kinds of horrible things."

"Jordan isn't planning horrible things," Kyle retorted. "There's no benefit for anyone to not be able to call out, to let their families know that they're safe. Jordan knows this, he's leading a team to try to find out who is causing the blackout."

"So we don't know who's behind this?" Tom asked.

"We're still working on it," said Kyle.

There was a silence that lasted for a moment, and some of the tension in the air dissipated.

"How are you feeling, Shawn?" Tom asked him. He looked genuinely concerned, but Shawn didn't seem to notice.

"Just trying to cope, Uncle Tommy," said Shawn. "Trying to figure out where to go from here."

"I understand," said Tom. "If you need anything, you let me know. I'll see what I can do. NTAC is still willing to work with the 4400 Center to achieve a peaceable solution to this whole situation."

Shawn laughed derisively. "There is no more 4400 Center, Uncle Tommy. Kevin Burkhoff took off with Tess, and since Jordan took over there's no need for this place as a safe haven."

Tom thought for a moment. "But what about Kevin's research?" he asked. "Doesn't he need proper facilities to finish his work? He was close to a solution, I thought."

"I suppose," said Shawn. "But I couldn't convince him to stay. Anyways, I'm sure he'll be back because he left his research here. I don't think he can do anything until communication comes back."

As if in response to his name, an elderly man with brown eyes and a bald spot came into the room smiling broadly. He nodded to Tom, and turned to Shawn.

"Shawn," greeted Kevin Burkhoff excitedly. "I found a few p-negatives who are going to help me finish my research. I don't have to even leave Promise City. Good news, huh?"

Shawn looked genuinely happy for the first time all day. He got up and grasped Kevin's hand. "Excellent, Kevin! How did you find them? They're willing to do what it takes?"

Tom and Kyle exchanged glances, and retreated out of the room for a moment. Shawn stopped Kyle on his way out.

"Don't go anywhere," he said. "I still want to talk to you."

"Don't worry," assured Kyle. "I will stick around long enough."

Outside of Shawn's office, Tom embraced Kyle in a massive hug, and Kyle returned the compliment. They smiled at each other for a quiet moment, and reflected on the good fortune that they still had each other. Kyle looked into his father's eyes, and felt pity. Tom had had so much pain in the last few days, and over the course of the last year he was lucky that he even had Meghan and his son left.

Tom put his hand on Kyle's arm, and sat down in a chair. He tried and failed to hide that he had began to well up.

"Dad," Kyle sat down next to him. "It's really good to see you. You are welcome to join Jordan's cause at any time, all you have to do is take that shot."

"I took it, Kyle," Tom said. He looked deep into his son's apprehensive eyes. "I took it this morning. I had a vision."

"That's great, Dad," Kyle said. "I'm excited for you; what kind of vision?"

"Kyle, you're not going to like it," said Tom. He looked away. "Well, some of it."

"What did you see, Dad?" Kyle looked very worried now. "If it involves my death, it has to be for the cause."

Tom choked visibly, and grabbed Kyle in a hug around his neck. "No," was all he managed to say. "It wasn't about your death. For the love of God don't talk like that, I can't stand to think about it right now."

"I'm sorry, Dad," Kyle said, returning the hug in earnest.

"It was about Collier's work," Tom tried to continue. "Kyle, he might be about to make a big mistake. I need you to tell him that as soon as the communication blackout is over, he needs to tell the world to wait for a few months until Burkhoff's research is done."

Kyle looked at his father. Seriousness bore into his soul, and Kyle knew that his father's account corroborated what his ability had told him. Jordan was in trouble, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Footsteps made Kyle look up, but Tom didn't seem to notice them. He recognized the girl entering the room, the girl with red hair and a distinctive blue pendant: Cassie. She was Kyle's ability and guardian, she knew things that it was impossible to know, but she had never led Kyle astray before. This was only the second time she had appeared in the presence of someone else.

"He's the only one who can talk to Jordan," said Cassie casually. "You're going to be busy finding Richard Tyler. And you should leave soon; it won't be long before someone else gets to him. You remember the address I gave you?"

Kyle nodded vigorously, and Tom noticed. He looked curiously at Kyle, and then at the space where Cassie stood.

"Kyle, what do you see?" he asked. Kyle looked at him.

"It's my ability," Kyle replied. "Her name is Cassie, she's a sort of guide."

"Oh," said Tom, looking back at the spot where Cassie was supposed to be standing. "Okay."

"I don't normally like to bother you during family time," said Cassie, "but this really is important. Tell your dad that he can find Jordan Collier at city hall, on the second floor in the old mayor's office. He needs to tell Collier what he knows, and then they can track down the criminal behind the blackout."

"Dad," Kyle started, and explained what Cassie had just told him. "I have to go now."

"But Kyle, you just got here," Tom interjected as Kyle rose.

"Don't worry," Cassie said to Tom. "You'll be getting a phone call as soon as you've talked to Collier."

"I'll call you, Dad," said Kyle, and he hugged his father one last time before leaving the 4400 Center.

* * *

Maia ate her Cheerios in silence. She looked out the window, and then glared at her mother. Her mom wouldn't let her go outside and see her friends. Her friend, Lindsay Hammond, had on called her several times, showing up at the front door. Her mom tried to hide it, but Maia knew what was going on.

Across the table, Diana played with the cereal in her bowl. Angrily, she dropped the spoon and looked at Maia.

"What?" she asked finally.

Maia merely glared at her mother.

"Maia, honey, I don't know what to do anymore," Diana said. "It's been three days, and I can't stand this anymore. What do you want?"

"I just want to go outside and be with the others," Maia shouted. "Why won't you let me be with my friends?"

"Your friends?" Diana asked. "How many of these people do you really know, Maia? They're… they're accessories to some of the largest-scale terrorist actions the world has ever seen; Maia, these people are criminals."

Maia threw her bowl away from her and marched off to her room, slamming the door loudly behind her.

Diana closed her eyes and cleared her mind. The gap between here and her daughter was growing larger by the hour. She had to face the truth: Maia was growing up and wanted her independence. Marco had been right.

She picked up the bowls, still filled with milk, and put them in the kitchen sink. Then she walked over to Maia's door and opened it a crack.

"Go away!" shouted Maia from within, throwing a pillow at the door. Diana shut it suddenly.

"Maia, I just want to talk," Diana said.

"Shut up!" was the only response she heard.

"Maia, listen," Diana replied, and waited a long moment. Maia's quiet sobs from the other side of the door slowed down slightly. "I can't hold on to you forever, Maia. And I don't want to lose you this way."

Silence met her ears, and she had no idea if Maia was still listening. She opened the door a crack, and saw the light coming in from the window shining across Maia's face as she sat up in her bed. Tear tracks streamed down from her eyes, and Diana could tell that she was genuinely upset by their argument.

"I have a secret to tell you," said Maia very quietly.

"Maia, honey, you don't have to tell me," Diana said, but part of her curiosity tugged at her. "Let me finish, and then you can tell me, okay?"

"Okay," Maia said.

"I am sorry that I've been holding you here," said Diana. "You're not a prisoner, and you're not in quarantine. I just… don't want you to end up back in quarantine. What's going on outside Seattle, outside Promise City, there is no controlling that. And Jordan Collier is not the safest solution."

"Okay," Maia said. "Can I tell you my secret now?"

"You're not going to tell me that you see dead people too, are you?" Diana asked, trying to laugh as she said it.

Maia smiled slightly. "I've sneaking out to see my parents over the past few weeks. There is a man, his name is Byron, he can sort of bring people back from the dead, as ghosts. They're the real people, but they can't touch anything."

Diana thought for a long moment. Maia looked at her, but she couldn't return the gaze.

"I still love you, mom," Maia said at last. "I will always come home to you."

"Oh, Maia," Diana said and stifled tears. She let go of the door and it swung slowly open. Diana took a seat on the edge of Maia's bed, and her young adopted daughter moved over to hug her. She hugged right back, feeling relief and fear creep up in her, knowing that she never wanted to lose Maia like she had once lost her fiancé; happy that Maia considered her a mother and a confidant, and that no matter what she would think so. The pitiful argument ended quickly and seemed stupid in retrospect, but stood as a testament to their powerful relationship.

* * *

Meghan looked up as the phone on her desk began to ring. She reached for it, and at the same time Marco Parcella stepped into his office, holding a file folder of information. She held up a hand to silence him and answered the phone.

"Meghan Doyle," she said.

"Meghan," Tom's voice sounded almost excited on the other line. "It's me, Tom. I know where Collier is, I'm on my way to talk to him right now. Any word from Diana?"

"You're on your way to see Collier?" Meghan asked. "Where's he hiding? I haven't heard from Diana, no."

"He's downtown, in city hall," Tom said. "But he's not the one we're after. He's looking for the person responsible for the communications blackout as well. If you can get a hold of Diana, let her know that I need to talk to her."

"Will do, Tom," said Meghan. "But don't you want anyone to go with you?"

"It wouldn't do any good," replied Tom, and the line went dead. Meghan slowly hung up the phone.

Marco took another step forward, and looked at the full vase of flowers on his left, then at the half-empty box of pens on his right. Smiling knowingly, he held the file folder out to Meghan.

"What is this?" she asked him.

"Something you'll be very happy to know," said Marco, still smiling. "I think we've traced the epicenter of the blackout, and if it is being caused by who we think it's being caused by, Jordan Collier has nothing to do with the blackout."

"So I've heard," said Meghan. "Tom was just on the phone telling me all about it. So do you know what's causing the blackout?"

"It's definitely a promicin ability," said Marco. "And it's certainly someone with access to a major network access link."

"So that's how many people?" asked Meghan.

"Could be one of thousands," Marco said, his excitement growing slightly. Meghan had an annoyed look on her face. "The access terminals are everywhere, and anyone who knows how to use them could easily block out a small area for a short time."

"How does that help us?" Meghan asked.

"If they were going through an access terminal," Marco continued, "it would show up on the grid as to which terminal he was using."

"And it took you three days to work this out?" Meghan hated it when he played this game.

"Hey, lay off, we're working with only two brains down in that theory room now," Marco said defensively. "But that's only the first part. We checked the grid on the first day. Nothing at all showed up, of course. It wouldn't be much of a blackout if it were. But this morning, the blackout weakened, and changed. It's unlikely that anyone would notice, because it seems to flicker for only a few seconds, but what it's actually doing is winding down into its central point."

"Like a tornado dissipating?" Meghan asked.

"Sort of," Marco replied. "We did a scan of the air, and it seems like someone's ability is to launch a sort of chaff into the air, effectively confusing all communications in the Seattle area, and probably a little ways around it, too. It seems resistant to wind or other weather patterns, which is unusual to say the least, but when it's done it seems to return to its point of origin."

"So there's going to be a visible target at the epicenter of the chaff," Meghan posited.

"Right," Marco confirmed. "And we'll be able to pinpoint it as long as he doesn't launch the chaff one more time."

"Sounds easy enough," said Meghan. "Whereabouts is our culprit likely to be located?"

"Well, it looks right now like the upper east side," Marco said.

"I'll call Tom," said Meghan.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

As Tom drove, he realized he was passing through his ex-wife Linda's neighborhood. She hadn't called him since the outbreak, and he decided it would be best to check on her. No time like the present, he thought.

He pulled up in front of Linda's house to find that her car was still in the driveway. The whole neighborhood seemed eerily quiet, unlike the rest of the city where people were clearing out their dead or rebuilding after the riots. He felt almost absurd knocking on the door, breaking the silence the way he was.

There was a painful pause before Linda opened the door and looked Tom in the face. She looked as beautiful and stern as ever, but when she saw him her face broke into a wide smile and she put her arms around him.

"I'm so glad you're alright," she said, and her voice was feeble as though she had been crying.

"I was passing through the neighborhood and I thought I'd come check on you," Tom explained. "How come you didn't call after everything happened?"

"I don't know," she replied, backing away from him and averting her gaze. He could see that tears had begun to slide slowly down her cheeks. "I just figured that you and Kyle were doing whatever you had to do to survive. Speaking of Kyle…"

"He's just fine," Tom said, grabbing her arm affectionately. She looked into his eyes and he remembered why he loved her. "Kyle is safe, I talked to him this morning."

"I saw that he was working with Jordan Collier," Linda started.

"I know," said Tom. "But it's okay. Kyle is a strong man now, and he has an ability which helps him take care of himself. Like it or not," Tom started, realizing he was admitting this to himself for the first time as well, "Kyle is his own man now."

They stood for a long while. It had been an emotional few days for Tom, and he realized that he needed time to properly reflect. If only I had time, he thought, but giving himself time to come and make sure Linda was okay was close enough for him.

"Tom, are you…?" Linda trailed off, her eyes still watering slightly as she stood in her doorway.

"I don't know what to say," said Tom.

"It's a stupid question," said Linda, turning away. "Forget it."

"Hey," Tom said as Linda began to retreat into her house again. "I'll tell Kyle to stop by."

"Have him call…" Linda started, then began laughing weakly. "Oh, right, I forgot about Collier's blackout."

Tom smiled. "Yeah, me too for a minute…"

Something connected in his mind that he hadn't thought of before. He just called Meghan. They had a good long conversation. When he was going to take the shot, he was on the phone with Kyle. Maybe this was his ability?

Tom's cell phone rang. As Linda was beginning to retreat into her house, she stopped and looked at Tom's pocket.

"Tom," she said slowly. "Why is your cell phone ringing?"

From in the living room, the monotonous sound of the emergency signal turned on on the television. Linda turned around quickly. Tom answered his phone.

"Tom Baldwin," he answered.

"Tom, this is Meghan," Meghan's voice sounded harried on the other side of the line. "The blackout is weakening. We've been able to trace an epicenter."

Suddenly the phone cut out, and the monotone from the television cut out as well.

"What the hell is going on?" Linda asked.

"The blackout was weakening," Tom said, looking at his cell phone. Every moment, a bar of reception appeared for only an instant, faster and faster and then vanished altogether. "But I think that it was just reinstated."

"How can you tell?" asked Linda, trying to sneak a peek at his cellular phone.

"I have a feeling," he replied, and began to leave. "Linda, I have to go. As soon as this blackout thing is over, I will make sure that Kyle calls you."

Tom hopped in his car and powered out of the driveway. If anyone knew exactly where the culprit behind the blackout was hiding, it was Jordan Collier and his team of promicin-positives.

* * *

Meghan stood outside of Diana Skouris' apartment beside Marco, waiting for Diana to answer the door. After a moment, the door opened a crack and a pale-faced young girl, Maia poked her head out. Meghan smiled, and the door opened wider. Behind Maia was Diana, looking extremely tired.

"Meghan?" Diana asked. "What are you doing here?"

"If you're willing," said Meghan, "I need my best agents at City Hall in five minutes."

"Five minutes?" Diana said. "It's a thirty minute drive, how are we going to get there?"

"That's where I come in," answered Marco, grinning slightly. He held up a picture, and put his other hand in the center of them. "Everyone grab my hand."

"Mom," Maia looked up at Diana. "Can I come, too?"

"I don't see any other choice," said Diana. "As much as it pains me, you can get to your friend Lindsay easier from city hall. When we're there, I want you to find Lindsay and stay with her. Once the blackout is finished, I'll call you."

Maia smiled at her adopted mother. Diana couldn't help but look worried. "Don't worry, Mom. I'll be okay."

"Time's a-wastin'," said Marco, gesturing his hand for emphasis.

Diana looked at Meghan, who grabbed Marco's hand. Maia grabbed a hold of Marco's hand, and Diana was the last to take hold. Marco moved the picture in front of his face, and the world fell away.

Before Diana could realize what happened, they stood in front of Promise City hall. Slightly disoriented, she looked around her curiously. Finally her gaze fell on Marco, who was still smiling.

"Alright, Diana?" he asked her.

"I knew you said you could do that," answered Diana, still trying to get a grip on herself, "but I didn't realize it worked that way."

"Spooky, isn't it?" Meghan remarked, and then she turned to Maia. "You're going to be okay, right? Just follow your mother's instructions. I'll make sure she returns to you in one piece."

Maia nodded. "Mommy will be okay."

The young girl turned to her mother and moved closer to her. Diana kneeled next to her daughter.

"You're going to like your ability," Maia whispered, and left Diana in a stupor as she ran away.

Diana stood up slowly.

"What happened?" asked Marco, looking after Maia as she ran.

"Something really strange," said Diana, looking after her daughter as well.

All around them was a whirl of activity. People still bustled about with myriad tasks, jostling around the three NTAC agents with their various jobs. It was as though nothing had changed, as though the promicin sickness never rampaged through the populace.

Diana, Marco, and Meghan separated themselves from the pedestrians and walked up the steps of city hall. Looking behind them, Meghan took a breath.

"It's incredible," she said. "Everyone is working together without question."

"Jordan Collier is out to change the world," Diana replied, putting her hand on Meghan's shoulder.

* * *

Tom's car pulled up outside of city hall. He slammed his car door and pushed through the people who were going about their business in front of city hall. Someone grabbed his arm.

"Hey," the man said, looking into Tom's eyes. "What's the rush?"

Tom felt a sudden wave of calm rush over him. He shook his head, and it felt as though drops of stress were literally coming out of his pores. When he put his hand to his head, he found he was in fact sweating. He smiled at the stranger.

"Thank you," Tom said, clapping the man on the shoulder. "Thank you."

The man smiled warmly, and Tom hopped up the last of the stairs and into city hall. Inside, it seemed nothing had changed. Tom walked up to the receptionist and leaned on her desk.

"Good afternoon," the receptionist said. Tom recognized her as one of Jordan's followers, one that had cleaned the pollution from the Duwamish river delta.

"Hi," Tom said. "I'm here to see Jordan. Could you send me to him?"

"He's already meeting with some NTAC agents," the woman replied. "Are they expecting you?"

"I expect so," said Tom. He grinned broadly at her, and she returned the smile.

"It's up the stairs, on your left; the last door on the right down the corridor," she directed him by pointing. "Have a nice day, Mr. Baldwin."

"You too," Tom said, and proceeded upstairs.

Tom opened the door that he was directed to, and was surprised to see Diana and Marco standing next to Meghan as they talked to Jordan Collier. They turned to see him as the door opened. Beside Jordan stood a young man with spiked black hair wearing a pinstripe vest and expensive-looking slacks.

"Tom?" asked Diana.

"Diana," said Tom, and moved to hug her. She moved to hug him back, and as she pressed up against him her body rocked.

As though far off, Tom could hear Meghan and Marco shouting.

Diana looked up, confused, into Tom's eyes. A dim light shined in her eyes, and a voice whispered from somewhere deep inside him.

"Wake up, Diana," his own voice, disembodied, surrounded them. "It's time."

The light in Diana's eyes shone brighter, and Tom released her.

Everyone in Collier's office stood dumbfounded, staring at Tom and Diana. An eternity of silence passed, with Tom and Diana just looking at each other. Diana was the first to break the silence.

"You took the shot," was all she said.

Meghan and Marco looked at each other, and Jordan began to chuckle.

"Tom Baldwin finally bit the bullet," he said, "and took the promicin shot. How do you feel, Tom?"

Tom smiled, at peace with himself and the world around him. "I feel fine. Diana, how are you?"

Diana took a step back, looking at everyone. For some reason she had become the center of attention. She stammered for a moment before being able to answer.

"I'm fine," she said. "I mean, I feel alright."

"Is that all?" Tom asked knowingly.

"Well," she felt like she was being cornered unfairly. "I guess I feel… I don't know. Freer."

Tom could sense that another silence was due, so he walked forward to Collier's desk. On it was a map of Seattle with several large red X's drawn on it, and a large circle drawn in the north eastern corner.

"Let's get straight to business," he said, spinning the map of Seattle around and pointing at it. "I'm guessing that you guys think that the culprit is in the upper east side?"

"That's right," Jordan confirmed. "Thanks to the help of your friend Marco, here, we have a fairly good idea of where to look."

The young man stepped forward. "Once we get there, I will be able to track him right away. I can sense the motivations of those around me, but only to a short distance."

"That's useful," said Tom, nodding. "How short a distance?"

"Maybe a hundred fifty yards or so," answered the young man, shrugging.

Tom held out his hand to the young man. The young man didn't look like he wanted to take it. "Tom Baldwin," Tom said.

At last, the young man reached out and grasped Tom's hand. "Chase Kelly," he said.

"The problem was just about solved," Jordan said, walking around the table and grabbing Tom by the shoulders. "But I suppose you would want to help, wouldn't you, Tom?"

Tom couldn't help but smile. He had never been so relaxed around Collier before. He could tell that the other NTAC agents were suspicious. He looked at them, and tried to stop smiling.

"Sorry," he told Meghan. "Someone outside kind of sucked the stress out of me or something."

"Ah," was all Meghan said. She turned to the map, and the room's focus seemed to finally return to the task at hand. "Even if we had a picture of somewhere near the upper east side, it would be hard to get this guy within a hundred and fifty yard radius. And we don't have time to wait until the field wears down again."

"There is a man named Daniel Lewis," Jordan said, "whose ability is to increase the strength of other's abilities for a short time. I'm trying to have him convert this ability into a formula; either a pill or a liquid that can be consumed. But it couldn't be ready for another few hours."

"It sounds like all we've got," said Meghan. "The only problem is that we have no idea if the government is going to attack Promise City in the mean time. We've got to get out of Promise City and talk to someone."

"The governor would be the fastest link to the National Guard," said Diana. "If we could talk to him, we might be able to get some more time."

"Well it would be easy enough to get to him," said Marco. "There are pictures of him in his office all over this building. Him and the president."

"I don't think going to the president is such a good idea," said Tom, remembering what he had been told by the future. "Let's stick with talking to Governor Quail."

"Okay," agreed Meghan, "so what's the plan here then?"

"I can take care of everything," Jordan assured Meghan. "And while I appreciate all of your offers to help, I do not believe we will be needing the influence of NTAC any longer. Your penchant for charging into a situation with guns mounted for an attack has no place in Promise City."

Tom looked incredulously at Collier. He couldn't believe that a moment ago Jordan had seemed happy that Tom had arrived.

"You can't expect us to just stand idle," said Tom. "We have as much right to help as you do. We don't want anyone hurt, and with no communication we have no idea what the government's intentions could be."

"The United States government will do what it wants to do," said Jordan calmly. "They already know what we are capable of. I do not believe that they will try anything drastic."

Tom looked long and hard at Collier, knowing that he was wrong. This must be the mistake the future warned about. He had a feeling that the government wasn't going to waste any time in dealing with the threat of Jordan Collier's Promise City, and that things were going to get very ugly very quickly.

"Okay, Jordan," he said. The NTAC agents stared at him, and even Jordan looked slightly impressed. "You're right, we don't have to work together. I'd hate to see thousands of innocent people die because you refuse to accept our help, but if you think you have things under control, so be it."

"Tom," Diana grabbed his arm. "Do you think we can really let this go just like that?"

Tom looked down into Diana's eyes, and she suddenly realized that he wasn't planning on giving up. "I think Jordan has this one under control," he responded.

Diana nodded, but didn't say anything. She shot Meghan a knowing glance, and Meghan nodded. Marco looked confused. "Okay," Diana conceded. "Let's go."

The NTAC agents turned and left, Marco looking thoroughly confused.

* * *

Quail picked up the telephone, and took a breath. Putting his hand over the mouth piece, he breathed out slowly and held the telephone up next to his ear. 

"Good evening, Mr. President," he said as calmly as he could. "It's good to hear from you."

The voice on the other line went on, and Quail tried to listen intently. The president seemed to be reciting some speech that had been written down long ago in case of some communist invasion. Something was said about powerful repercussions and a great danger to the American peoples, and Quail agreed.

"You have four hours to get a message to Seattle," the president said on the other line. "At the end of four hours, the US Air Force will drop a 50 megaton hydrogen bomb on the city of Seattle. Inform all National Guard posts to filter all promicin-negative hostages who wish to escape Seattle out of the area immediately. That is all."

"Yes, Mr. President," Quail said nervously. "They will be informed."

But the line was already dead. Quail stared at nothing in front of him while a voice in the back of his head screamed at him. Four hours wasn't enough to evacuate enough people: even after the high death toll in Seattle just before the blackout, thousands of innocents were sure to perish in the wrath of a hateful and uncaring world.

Quail replaced the phone on his desk and leaned back. Slowly, he pulled open a drawer in his desk, inside which was the needle filled with the promicin injection. Promicin-positive or not, many of those citizens did not choose for Jordan Collier to gain control of their city. And without any communications, there was no way to know if there wasn't a revolution going on right this very moment.

Shutting the drawer, Quail reached out and picked up the telephone. He dialed some numbers, and waited for a moment as the phone rang.

"General Lanstrom? This is Governor Quail," his tone was as composed as he could make it, though it still shook slightly. "Begin evacuating all citizens from Seattle. Everyone. They're going to drop a bomb on the city."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Quail put down the telephone and looked up. Somehow, without him noticing, four people had suddenly appeared in his office; a pair of men and women. He looked them all over, noting that one of the men was taller with blond hair and the other more skinny with black hair styled distinctively. One of the women was shorter with wavy blond hair and stunning features; the other woman had a more classic look, with her red hair tied back in a pony tail behind her head. They all looked purposeful in their intent to be here, and Quail guessed that they were more of Collier's people. Somehow, he didn't know how, but somehow they had to have found out about the bomb and they were here to take him out as a retaliatory measure.

"Governor Quail," started the blond woman, stepping forward. "I am Meghan Doyle, head of NTAC based in Seattle."

Quail looked shocked. He hadn't expected her to say that, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to believe her.

"Behind me," she continued, seemingly ignoring his shaken expression, "are my best agents, Tom Baldwin-"

At this the tall blond man stepped forward and held out his hand for a handshake. Without thinking, Quail grasped the proffered hand and shook it.

Tom looked deep into Quail's eyes, and could feel Quail's sense of alarm. From deep within him, his voice resonated the air waves.

"It's okay," his voice said. Quail relaxed instantly, and Tom's voice said, "That's odd."

Quail returned Tom's gaze, and Tom looked confused. Quail wanted to ask what was wrong, but his mouth wouldn't form the word.

"There's no light," Tom's voice said. "We'll just have to put it there, then."

Suddenly, Quail's head felt as though it were going to split. The pressure within his skull increased, and he wanted to scream in agony, but he still couldn't get his mouth to move. He clenched his eyes shut and prayed for the worst to go away, but the pain simply would not quit.

"Sshh," Tom's voice echoed into the pain, and it began to subside. "Open your eyes, and wake up."

Slowly, as though not sure if his eyes would be there when he opened them, Quail opened his eyelids. The pain in his head lingered dully, and Tom smiled.

"There it is," he could hear Tom saying. "Nice and bright."

The world seemed to return to the present, where everyone was looking at Tom as though he had ripped Quail's arm off when he shook it. Tom was smiling, seemingly unaware of everyone's stares. He looked around at the shocked expressions on everyone's faces and shrugged.

"What?" he asked. Tom turned to Meghan. "Aren't you going to introduce the rest of the group?"

Meghan blinked, as though not sure what to say. She gestured to Diana. "This is Diana Skouris."

Diana made no move to shake Quail's hand, and Quail seemed satisfied by this. The governor shot a sidelong glance at Marco. Meghan caught the direction of his gaze and introduced Marco.

"We are here on behalf of Seattle," Meghan stated. "Not Jordan Collier. We have no reason to suspect Collier of being linked to the blackout, however. We wanted to see what could be done about preventing an invasion of Seattle."

"That won't be necessary," Quail said.

Meghan was stopped in her tracks. She looked as though she had prepared several complex and logical reasons as to why the national guard should be called off, and she wasn't sure she liked the governor's tone.

"The president has just informed me that he wishes to nuke Seattle," Quail informed the team from NTAC. "Since all other conventional efforts to capture Jordan Collier have failed, he seems convinced that the best way to get him and his terrorist cohorts out of the States is to blow them off the map."

"The president authorized a nuclear strike on Seattle?" Diana asked. The news hit the NTAC agents like lead slamming onto a gravestone. "That seems drastic! One nuke for one person? What about all the innocent people living there who are going to lose their lives?"

"You think I don't know that?!" shouted Quail, rising from behind his desk. "I just got off the phone with General Lanstrom, the man in charge of the battalions stationed outside Seattle. He's been ordered to evacuate everyone from the city, in direct violation of a presidential order. The president wants only the negatives evacuated."

"This is sick," Meghan said. "The American people won't stand for it."

"You're goddamn right they won't," said Quail. "Which is why he's going to have a good alibi. I'm sure his people have already come up with some fool-proof way to blame it on one of Collier's promicin-abilities."

"How much time do we have left?" asked Meghan, thinking quickly.

"A little under four hours," said Quail. "Even in the best of circumstances, that's not enough to evacuate a quarter of Seattle. And we don't even have proper communication."

"Well," Marco interjected from the back of the room. "It's quite possible that Jordan prepared for something like this."

Everyone turned to look at him as though he were mad. He looked at each of them in turn as though they should seriously consider the possibility.

"I mean, a man like Collier has to know that as he pushed on the US Government they would flex their nuclear muscle eventually," Marco said simply. "It's likely that he's had a plan in place from square one."

"So we'd be relying on that Collier man to save Seattle?" asked Quail incredulously.

"Not exactly," Marco said. "More like relying on Seattle to save Seattle. With all of those new abilities, I can't believe that no one will be incapable of reversing the bomb's direction, or teleporting it away, or even turning it into a kitten. There are endless possibilities."

"So what do we do?" Meghan asked Marco. Marco shrugged.

"There are a few options," said Marco. "One, we stay the hell out of Seattle entirely. I don't really like that plan. Two, I go in, grab as many people as I can, and come to a safe spot, say here. Even then there's not going to be a whole lot of good, because it's likely that I'll get tired from transporting so many people."

"Are those our only options?" Diana asked. "It seems like there should be more we can do than just sit back and watch Seattle get blown to pieces."

"Well," said Marco. "We could always travel into the belly of the beast, and try to warn Collier it's coming. That'll be the best way to try to organize a retaliatory move. With any luck Collier's people are closer to tracking down the guy responsible for the blackout by now. If the blackout is gone before the bomb drops, we could get a message out to the people: either stay or run."

"Either way," said Tom, "there's not much time to do anything. Collier said his team wouldn't be ready for a few hours yet."

"I vote we warn Collier," said Diana. She tried to look as resolute as she could. "He's the one whose organized all of those people, and whether he's a terrorist or not, if anyone can stop it, Jordan Collier can."

"I have to agree with Diana," Marco said. "It seems like the most logical plan."

"Alright," said Tom. "So if we go with this plan, and it looks like it's going to fail do we just sit there and die?"

Everyone digested this for a moment, unable to come up with a reasonable answer.

"Once we get there," Marco said, "I can start gathering people as quickly as I can and remove them from the city."

"Wouldn't that be dangerous?" asked Meghan. "What if we took away the one person with the ability to save the city?"

"I think the statistics would be in our favor," said Marco. "I could go anywhere so long as I have a picture and gather people from there. It's more likely that I'll be saving more lives by getting people out of Seattle."

Quail looked at the four strangers, discussing this in his office. He sat down slowly, his head still reeling a little with dull ache.

"It seems to me," said Quail, "that you have made a decision. Whatever you do, I want you to get as many people out of Seattle as you can."

* * *

Maia walked down the halls of city hall, past all of the people going about their business, and straight into Jordan Collier's office. Jordan's office was large, but dimly lit, with rows of judicial textbooks covering shelves on the walls. Jordan himself was sitting behind a desk, conferring with a woman. 

"There just aren't enough places inside Promise City to put the bodies," the woman was saying.

"I'll take care of it as soon as I can, Christine," said Jordan, and he noticed Maia. He looked back at the woman and dismissed her. She left the room quietly, and Maia took a seat opposite Jordan.

"Good evening, Maia," Jordan said amiably. He was always pleased to see the young clairvoyant, believing her a valuable girl to have around.

"Hello, Mr. Collier," said Maia. She smiled, but her smile vanished as quickly as it had come. "My mom wouldn't be happy if she knew I was talking to you right now, but I have to tell you something."

Jordan nodded. "I would imagine she wouldn't. Your mother and I don't always see eye to eye, but I'll keep this meeting a secret if you will."

Maia's smile disappeared. "I had a very bad vision," she said. "You have to promise that no matter what happens, you don't do anything dangerous. Don't hurt anyone."

Jordan kept his countenance friendly. "It seems like I've had this warning before," he said. "But I can't just keep wagging my finger at the threats of the government. They know what we are capable of, and if they strike first I will strike back."

"You can't strike back," Maia said. "I can't tell you anything else. But promise me you won't strike back."

"Maia," Jordan said, but Maia's eyes bored into him. She looked sad, as though something truly horrible were about to befall him. She had looked at him in that way before, before he was going to be shot. While a great part of him deeply wanted to heed her advice, he sighed and said, "It's far more complicated than that. If the government declares war on Promise City, on the world we're creating, we will have no choice but to defend ourselves."

"When I was in school," Maia said, "I learned about this man named Mahatma Gandhi. He stood up to people with guns, and he did a lot of great things without hurting anyone else."

"Very wise words, Maia," said Jordan. "But I have a lot of things to get done. Why don't you run along, and I'll see what I can do, okay?"

Maia looked defeated. "Okay," she said finally.

Jordan watched as the young girl left in a few morose footsteps and silently closed the door behind her. He thought about what she had said, but no ideas came to mind. Maia's advice had always been accurate, but she had never used her predictions as warnings; rather, she simply took the best route of action for herself or those around her based on what she had seen. He shrugged. That means that whatever happens, he concluded, was supposed to happen that way.

"You've already lost," said a voice from behind him. Jordan didn't turn immediately, so confused was he by the voice he had heard. It was strikingly familiar, and he couldn't help but find himself in disbelief. "Your one true hope killed himself to prevent you from killing thousands of people."

Jordan rotated in his chair slowly, coming around to face an exact likeness of himself who leaned casually against the bookshelf. It was the old Collier, the one with a short business-only haircut and those crafty eyes.

"Shawn's brother," said the old Jordan, "had the ability to induce promicin in anyone around him. Why do you think all of this happened? The entire of Promise City, everything that is now yours, happened because of that boy."

Jordan thought for a moment. "Why are you telling me this?" he asked carefully.

"It's not too late to save Danny Farrell," the old Collier said, and he walked towards Jordan.

"Okay," Jordan leaned back in his chair. "So you would have me bring this boy back to life to use as a tool for the spreading of promicin. That's very clever; whoever thought of that should be commended. But I've never heard of any promicin ability that allows someone to come back from the dead."

"Of course you haven't," said the old Collier. "That's because he doesn't know he can do it yet. Danny Farrell wouldn't just be a tool for spreading promicin, though."

At this, Jordan's eyebrows went up. He wasn't sure what to make of all this, and it was certainly not coincidental that whoever was making this older version of himself appear immediately after Maia Skouris warned him not to retaliate.

"Danny Farrell would be able to send a message to those who deserve to die because they resist the ability to sacrifice for their brethren," said the old Collier, and he fixed Jordan with a steely look. "Because of their selfishness, they lose the option to choose."

Jordan didn't like what he was hearing, but it made sense. Damn him, he always seemed to make sense to himself. And if Maia foresaw this, it was likely that he was supposed to choose this path, whether Maia liked it or not. But something certainly didn't click with him.

"This all sounds fair," Jordan said, clasping his hands together. "But you must tell me, since I've never had a schizophrenic episode or a hallucination of myself or other psychotic reaction of that nature, who are you? Are you part of someone's ability?"

The old Collier smiled. "I am a part of you, Jordan, the part that died when Kyle shot you. I've been dormant while you took over, but, much like Danny Farrell must do, I came back to life to help you. Now that it's more than just the 4400, you have the ability to do some real good in this world, Jordan. You can save the world, and they will respect and cherish you."

Everything that the old Collier said seemed so easy, so superficial. Jordan couldn't believe it, that whoever was conjuring up this old version of himself thought he was so easily tricked. Even in his most narcissistic moments he had never wanted world conquest for himself.

"Okay," said Jordan. "You can go, I'll get to work on finding a way to bring Danny back."

"Oh don't worry about that," said the old Collier, seemingly convinced that Jordan's word was good. "Danny's return to life is gonna drop right out of the sky."

Jordan turned back to his work, trying again and failing to concentrate on what he needed to do. When he looked over his shoulder, the image of himself had gone. Jordan nodded to himself and figured it was probably a good idea to heed Maia's advice. Someone was definitely trying to get him into a lot of trouble.

* * *

With great difficulty, Alicia took another step down on the ladder. She tried not to think about how high up she was. Below her, her brother Reese was chiding her, trying to get her to move faster.

"Come on, you're only like eight feet up," he said. "It takes a second, just come down!"

"I'm scared of heights, okay?" Alicia said, and she took a breath. The world seemed miles below her, though she knew her brother was probably right; it was only eight feet down. A light wind blew by her and she tightened her grip on the ladder quickly. She still couldn't open her eyes. As she began to lower her next foot onto the next rung, the wind returned and she replaced her foot on the safety of the rung she was already on. "Can't you come get me?"

Reese looked at his sister with an impatient expression, but she couldn't see him. "You know I can't lift your fat ass," he said. "You'd think with your promicin ability you'd have lost weight or something. Shit, I knew this promicin stuff was stupid."

"You're not giving me very much incentive to want to continue helping you," said Alicia, trying to work up the nerve to go down another step. She had been overweight since youth, and had a very difficult time of it. She, like her brother, had hoped that taking promicin would help her lose weight. It hadn't, and then her entire family had caught promicin from the epidemic. Now her entire family was dead, and as far as she and Reese were concerned, it was Jordan Collier's fault.

It was Reese who had noticed that Alicia had the ability to block electronic signals, and it was Reese who decided to try to use it to make Jordan Collier look bad. So he had insisted that she climb up on several different rooftops and do her stuff. This morning he had decided that it was time to take down the signal barricade and find out what the world thought of Jordan Collier now.

Only Alicia couldn't get down off of the ladder.

"Screw you, I'm going inside," Reese said, and he began moving for the back door.

"Wait!" Alicia shouted, but Reese was gone. She opened her eyes for a moment and her world spun. She felt very high off of the ground. "Reese!"

From inside the house, Reese ignored his sister's frantic cries for help. He looked around for the remote control to the massive HD TV that was mounted on the wall. He loved using other people's homes after they were dead. It was his favorite part about what Jordan had done.

After tearing the sofa apart, he spotted the remote was sitting on the dining room table in the adjacent room. He grabbed it and turned on the television. It was already on CNN, and he could see the president.

"What has happened in Seattle is an atrocity," said the president, slamming his fist down on the podium dramatically. "It is a terrorist attack worse than any in United States history, and the leader of these terrorists, Jordan Collier, will now feel the noose tighten. Seattle will be reclaimed in the name of its mother country. All of the hostages that Collier has taken will be released, safely, to their respective families.

"We have word that Collier is collecting people who have not taken the promicin shot and forcing it upon them, leading to massive numbers of dead people. This is why he has blacked out communication, to stop anyone from calling for help. For the past week, the national guard has been moving in on Collier's so-called "Promise City," but he efforts to break into the heart of Promise City have thus far been fruitless.

"We are working on the safest and most effective solution to this problem. I will not see my country torn in two over this. I urge you, American citizens, if you have taken the promicin shot, turn yourself in to the proper authorities so we can verify that you are not one of Jordan Collier's radicals. We will continue to treat you with the proper respect and civil rights that every American deserves, and law enforcement agencies will not discriminate against any promicin-positive individual who turns themselves in.

"God bless America," the president finished and the room he was in filled with questions. Reese was satisfied, and turned to look out the sliding glass door where he could see his sister was down to her last three steps. He went to see her.

"Everything worked perfectly according to plan," said Reese. "The president has Seattle surrounded by National Guard, and it won't be long before they work their way in and kill Jordan Collier."

Alicia looked as though she were still having difficulty with the last three steps. "That's great, Reese. As long as I don't have to climb any more ladders, I don't really care anymore."

"No more ladders," Reese said. "Next time, we're going up stairs. Come on, let's see if they left behind their car keys."


	5. Coming Soon

**More 4400: Face of God coming soon!**

_Chapter Five is in the works_

In the upcoming chapter you will find out more about Danny Ferrell's fate, the fate of Alana, and Jordan Collier's self apparition. Reese and Alicia set about a new scheme to cause trouble for Jordan and his colleagues. Tom will do some self-exploration, to the point where he can define his ability.

In upcoming chapters, the nuke will drop on Seattle! Danny Ferrell will return to life! Someone will die!

_All this and more is in the works for…_

**The 4400: The Face of God**


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